Anything But Civil (Hattie Davish Mysteries) (A Hattie Davish Mystery)

Anything But Civil (Hattie Davish Mysteries) (A Hattie Davish Mystery)

Anna Loan-Wilsey

Language: English

Pages: 310

ISBN: 0758276362

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Traveling secretary Hattie Davish and her trusty typewriter alight on a small town in Illinois, where the Civil War may long be over, but certain mysteries refuse to be buried. . .

Hattie Davish is delighted to be ably assisting her wealthy employer, Sir Arthur Windom-Greene, an English scholar who is fluent in Civil War history and hard at work putting together a definitive biography of General Cornelius Starrett. Their research takes them to Galena, Illinois, where they quickly learn that time has done little to heal old battle wounds. Distrust and betrayal seem to linger in everyone's minds, none more so than the General's pompous son Henry. And Hattie is certain he has something to do with a string of bizarre incidents in town--especially when he turns up dead. . .

Between her work for Sir Arthur, preparing for Christmas, and unscheduled visitors from her past, Hattie hardly has time to investigate a murder, but soon she is lost in a labyrinth of secrets and deceit that leads to more questions than answers. Henry had a knack for finding trouble and making enemies, and there's no shortage of suspects--including Sir Arthur. Now, Hattie must uncover the truth while maintaining her civility in a most uncivil situation. . .

Praise For A Lack Of Temperance

"Delightful. . .cozy fans will eagerly await Hattie's next adventure." --Publishers Weekly

"This historical cozy debut showcases the author's superb research. Readers will be fascinated. . .this is a warm beginning." --Library Journal

The North and South Trilogy

Dixie Betrayed: How the South Really Lost the Civil War

Decoying the Yanks: Jackson's Valley Campaign

The Library of Congress Illustrated Timeline of the Civil War




















India ink on his hand. The two put their heads together and spoke furtively but indistinctly. I couldn’t understand a word. Who was this other man? He had left the G.A.R. meeting disgusted by Henry Starrett’s arguments. Was he too a “copperhead” from days gone by? But then why attend a Grand Army of the Republic meeting? Still in conference, they navigated through the now-dispersing crowd of window-shoppers and disappeared around the bend. What were they talking about? All I could do was wonder

opening the back door. I fumbled with the knob for the second time and the top package, an assortment of hair ribbons I’d purchased to give to Ida for all the early morning fires she had lit for me, had slipped from my arms into the snow when the door opened from the inside. “Walter!” In my surprise, I nearly dropped everything else. Dr. Walter Grice, his eyes sparkling in the glow of the kitchen fire, stood on the kitchen threshold, holding the door open. In a finely pressed tailored wool suit

you, Mrs. Monday.” “Pleased to meet you, Dr. Grice. Any friend of Hattie’s is certainly welcome anytime in my kitchen.” “Thank you,” Walter said. “In town for the entertainment?” Mrs. Monday asked. Walter looked at me inquiringly. I shrugged. I had no idea what she was talking about. “What entertainment?” I asked. “Why, the annual Christmas entertainment at Turner Hall, of course,” Mrs. Monday said. “It’s one of the biggest events of the year. Granted Reverend Hart insists on giving his

last words. “That’s what I expect from you, Miss Davish. Nothing less than complete loyalty. Give me that, girl, and I can open doors you never knew existed.” I’d been too dumbfounded at the time to capture the words on paper, but I’ve never forgotten them. “We kept up a correspondence and I’ve enjoyed a hunt with the lieutenant several times since,” Sir Arthur said. “John Baines and his wife will be arriving Monday morning, from Chicago. I don’t know the exact time.” I oddly knew nothing about

How could I have ever doubted him? “And because I know he’s innocent.” Officer Corbett grinned at me again. Was that a look of condescension or was he truly glad I believed in Sir Arthur’s innocence? I couldn’t tell. “By the way, Mr. Killian, do you know where Enoch Jamison is?” I asked. “In Chicago.” “Do you know when he left Galena?” I said. “Wednesday morning. Why? He had nothing to do with this. He didn’t know anything.” “No, that isn’t why I asked,” I said. The grocer looked from me to

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